Entering the Shadow of the Colossus
by Cutsceneaddict
Summary: A classic retelling of the cinematic Shadow of the Colossus opening. A young man of unknown origin sets out on a quest to restore his beloved to life. With only his loyal steed, Argo, at his side, he journeys into the silent, legendary land of the Colissi, discovering a pristine world untouched by man or horse.


The hawk soared.

Caught between mountains and grey sky, wings balancing the firmament, the bird began its descent. Soaring betwixt the square shoulders of the canyon walls, beak open to taste the fresh mountain mist, the hawk followed its course, guided by the still river far below. Its wings rustled the foliage extending from the cliff side. A mummer of wind echoed within the chasm, like the heavy breath of some creature as ancient as itself.

* * *

The hawk soared, its wingtip nearly brushing the shoulder of a young man, before the call of the forgotten land beckoned it away.

Eyes burdened with the gravity of the silent world, Wander watched the hawk soar into the grey maze of drifting clouds, until it winked out of sight. This had been the first sign of life he had encountered since entering the Forbidden Land, and it had come and gone so quickly that he supposed it might be a guardian spirit of the sky. This was a majestic world, so devoid of life, and yet so full of life, as though the land itself _were_ the life—a vast, sleeping giant, breathing gently, as it had since the dawn of time.

Gently nudging the black stallion, Argo, with his heel, Wander coaxed him into a gentle walk. Argo had never been a disobedient animal, but now he seemed especially concerned with following his master's orders, as though even he sensed the severity of the task at hand.

Thin mist soaked both human and horse in a refreshing breeze. Even the mist pulsed with that subtle contact that gave it almost living attributes. Pressing forward along the lip of the mountain ledge, Wander suddenly pulled Argo to a gentle halt. They had come to another gap in the pathway—one that, if unseen, would have resulted in a plummeting drop to the river far below in the gorge. The black stallion had leaped many of these pits already in the journey, and Wander had very few qualms about this one.

Carefully backing his steed a few paces, Wander urged him forward again. For a moment, they touched nothing but mist, and Wander held the limp figure saddled in front of him even more tightly, lest she fall. In the next moment, hoof had contacted rock again and all was well. Rock fragments sent chilling echoes up the chasm as they fell loose from the impact.

Above, the sun shone dim but watchful, like a great eye, partially closed by veiling clouds. Though the sky hung somber above similarly garbed mountains, Wander instinctively knew that the lighting had nothing to do with nightfall. This was a world untouched by time. Or by his kind. Rain, however, was likely imminent.

In silence, he passed on. Surrounding him was a land that seemed so permanently fixed in such silent grieving that perhaps even the land itself had forgotten exactly why it mourned.

* * *

Hours had passed, and gradually the solid _clop_ of hoof on rock gave way to a muffled _thud_ and whispering rustle of hoof brushing leaf and grass. Wander sat on the stallion's back, swaying easily in accordance with the animal's gentle, but deliberate, gait. The still figure, wrapped carefully in a cocoon of cloth, rested against him as he steadied her.

Whereas the mountains had seemed to be grieving, this forest gave the impression of reverence. The stillness hovered above all. Life bared itself only in the shivering of wind between leaves. The trees grew deep, spreading vast roots across the forest floor. Great boulders, mottled with lichen and moss, rested unmoved about the area.

Wander watched one of the falling leaves detach from its bough, whisking about in the air, as though on tiny wings. It spun beneath a roving shadow before floating into a shaft of flowing light that had managed to filter down between the greenery. There it spun once on its stem and came to an eternal rest. Argo stepped over the leaf carefully, as though sensing that bringing any damage, or even change, to this world would in some way break a sacred law.

Their dark figures passed carefully along a small pool of water, occasionally disappearing behind trees and rocks as they ascended sunlit hills and then into lush depressions. Stars of light flowed down from open gaps above, leaving the path below a patchwork of roving emerald and diamond. The water rippled as though it were speaking in its own forgotten tongue. A second forest shimmered on its surface.

Above all, the half-closed eye of the sun peered downward between the boughs, half-guarding, half-observing its world.

* * *

Wander halted Argo beneath an overhanging ledge as he felt the first drops of rain begin to fall. The great eye had finally closed, allowing water to replenish its land.

A long fern gently nodded beneath the drops. Argo shook his dark mane.

* * *

Tail flowing behind him, Argo pressed onward across the open plain. Trees had become sparse now, with only an occasional few emerging from rises in the land. Tall, grass-like plants grew in grouped clusters, swaying in the storm-breeze. Rain continued to fall.

Wander did not hesitate at the sight of the structure. The wide pathway led up a flight of stairs towards the entrance. Spreading like great, high arms, the two wings of the opening left only a narrow fissure of passage in their center.

This was mason-work that could no creature of flesh and blood could accomplish, yet so intricate that it seemed designed by finer hands than the land entailed. Figures and patterns, frozen for all of time on the face of the architecture, stood proud and grave, as though, though all these years, they had been waiting for him. Erect pillars, surmounted by pentagonal tops, seemed to gaze at him as he passed, neither barring the way with hostility, nor granting full-hearted passage with welcome arms. Lichen draped over arches and wrapped about columns. Shrubs forced their way between close-knit cracks, reclining upon ledges and jutting along border-work.

And between the two structures, the fissure of light—pure light that had never shone upon human or horse—beckoned him forward like a portal to eternity. Argo stepped into the narrow passage, between the sides of the guardian walls. Sunlight caught on the overhanging ledges, streaming curtains of wave-like beams down on the three journeyers.

When the threshold of light had been crossed, Argo halted, even before Wander tugged at his bridle. Spanning the breadth of their vision, straight ahead like a raised pathway, was a narrow bridge of white and grey stone. Supported by curved arches, perfectly symmetrical along its middle, the bridge seemed to divide the very land into two halves. Beyond this span stretched an endless world of sand and undulating mountains. And, in perfect line with the bridge, an imperial silhouette raised itself from the rest of its surroundings, standing regal and omniscient with a stature that separated it from its mountainous kin. At one time, no doubt, it had been nothing more than a mountain itself, but some power greater than the land had shaped it into a new entity long, long ago.

The wind tugging at his hair, Wander knew that by continuing across the bridge he would be daring what no human ever had. Perhaps even what no human could do without offending their conscience.

The eye of heaven opened wider than ever before, sliding away the curtain of grey. Sunlight soaked into his skin, empowering him. Wind beckoned him along with soft figures, pulling at his clothing.

Wander looked at the still form in the saddle again, and that was all the convincing needed.

Slowly, with delicate, thoughtful steps, Argo continued the journey, crossing one intricate design after the next, gradually making headway across the bridge.

* * *

Far above the distant silhouette, a dark line wafted in the deserted wind.

The hawk soared.


End file.
